


Six Months On

by AtLeastSevenRaccoons



Series: The Injury [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Caretaking, Cock & Ball Torture, Desperation, Double Penetration, M/M, Multi, Oral Knotting, Orgasm Denial, Penectomy, Permanent Injury, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6131692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtLeastSevenRaccoons/pseuds/AtLeastSevenRaccoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse at Michael's life six months after the accident that took his knot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Months On

**Author's Note:**

> I'm relatively new to writing smut, so constructive criticism is welcome.

Michael shoved more of Ryan's cock down his throat, sucking desperately. It throbbed in his mouth, hot and heavy. Michael could practically feel the blood pumping through it.

It twitched and Michael groaned, hungrily sucking down the pre-cum and rubbing his tongue over the flesh. He _needed_ Ryan to cum. He needed _something_.

Finally the cock started to twitch harder and Ryan reached down and tried to push him off but Michael fought back, not nearly ready to give up the feel of Ryan's dick in his mouth and down his throat. Ryan gave another halfhearted attempt to push him away before he was cumming.

Michael had him swallowed so far back that he could barely taste it, but he could still feel it happening and sucked greedily.

Ryan pulsed again, releasing a second load, and then his knot started to swell up, completely filling Michael's mouth behind his teeth to the point of pain and nearly to the point of cutting off his air supply, but Michael didn't care.

Ryan kept cumming for several long moments and Michael let himself enjoy the feeling, still desperately working it with his mouth. But all too soon it was over and Ryan was going limp in his mouth.

Michael groaned in displeasure and tried to suck as much as he could with his mouth stuffed full.

Ryan hissed a little and swatted him and Michael whimpered pitifully and tried to bury himself deeper.

“I can't go anymore, Michael,” Ryan told him.

Michael whined and all too suddenly without the blow-job to focus on his own never ending arousal reared into full focus.

Michael fumbled desperately to get his hand down to wrap around his dick, but just like always his hand met nothing but smooth skin.

Less six weeks after the accident Michael had been in a permanent state of erection, his cock  _ throbbing _ with every move, so painful that it was drowning out the constant, screaming need, and the decision was made that Michael would be more comfortable if the amputation that had begun with his knot was completed.

It  _ was _ better, that was absolutely true, but most of the time Michael couldn't remember that, too desperate for some way to relive himself to remember that his cock had done nothing but add to his pain.

Michael only palmed at his mound for a second before instead trying to reach further down to his ass, but his balls were just too big for him to manage, so swollen with cum that they were now each almost the size of basketballs.

Michael scrambled his hands behind him and tried to twist himself to get to his ass that way, the cock trapped in his mouth making it almost impossible to bend the way he needed to.

Ryan ran his hand fondly through Michael's hair at his struggles. “Jack,” he called. “Come fuck Michael in the ass.”

“Why can't you?” Jack called back.

“Because I'm tied with his mouth.”

“Again?” Jack asked, coming into the living room, frowning slightly, “Michael,” he admonished, “You know that's bad for your jaw.”

Michael could barely hear the words let alone make sense of them. All he knew was that there was now another cock present and he desperately shoved his ass in Jack's direction, mewling with need.

Jack took pity on him and walked over, dropping his pants and grabbing Michael's hips, pushing in with one smooth motion, knowing Michael was still ready from his earlier session with Gavin's fist.

Michael groaned as the sweet burn of friction filled him and he shoved himself back on the cock, desperate for more.

This was his favourite position, stuffed so full that it was almost enough. Almost enough to forget that it _wasn't_ enough.

Jack didn't bother to be gentle or try to make it any way 'good' for Michael. They'd all learned by now that there wasn't such thing as 'good' for Michael any more.

But even with Jack not doing anything but focusing on furiously pumping, his dick was so big and he was so practised that he was hitting Michael's prostate with every thrust and Michael squealed, muscles dancing and ass clenching, ever hoping for more.

He desperately tried to work Ryan's cock the best he could, not bothering to try and breath at that point. It was so good and he just needed that little bit _more_. He was _so fucking close, come on, just a little more._

But Jack, too, ended before anything could happen. Nothing was every  _ going _ to happen, but caught up in the throes it was hardly like Michael could remember that and he whined and tried desperately to reach back to Jack as Jack withdrew.

_God, didn't Jack know how much he needed this?_

Michael moved to try and get to Jack, but his mouth was stuck on something, and his frazzled brain needed a second to remember Ryan's knot.

Ryan hissed and reached put his hand on the back of Michael's head, gently keeping him from pulling back and hurting either of them, and Michael fought him for a second before the reason he was trying to escape washed away and he went back to trying to work Ryan's dick. At that point his jaw was so sore that there wasn't much he could do, and the appeal of the act was quickly fading.

Michael didn't notice Jack sigh and sit himself down beside Ryan's legs, only remembering that Jack was there when Jack reached out and cupped his face.

This is why you don't orally knot, Michael,” Jack reminded him, voice so gentle. Jack was well aware by know that his admonishments were pointless. Michael had no control anymore for that kind of thing, and Ryan and the internet had explained to him how hard it was to stop from knotting in the middle of the act. Unless they were willing to deprave Michael of sucking Ryan off, and they really weren't looking to deprive Michael of anything if they could help it, all they could do was hope Michael didn't hurt one of them.

Jack reached up and gently stroked Michael's cheek, brushing the tears away. Michael immediately grabbed Jack's hand and tried to drag it downwards, even though there was nothing there for him to touch with Michael’s cock long gone and his balls to sore to provide any pleasure no matter how aroused he was.

Jack sighed and shook his head. “No, Michael. You're done for now.”

Michael kept fighting him and even after six months it still broke Jack's heart. He would give anything to give his lover some relief, even if just for a moment.

“Here,” Ryan muttered, and handed Jack Michael's DS.

Jack smiled his thanks and turned it on, shifting his position so that Michael could see it. The only thing they could do for Michael was try to distract him. It was clear that Michael wasn't paying attention, to busy whining in frustration and discomfort to care about his Pokemon game that Jack was trying to engage him with, but Jack kept it up regardless so that on the slim chance that Michael dragged himself back to awareness enough to concentrate on something Jack could give him that life line to help.

Luckily Ryan's knot never took long to deflate, and it was only ten minutes before Ryan could gently push Michael off.

Michael tried to stop from having to let go of Ryan's dick and Ryan had to massage Michael's jaw a little to keep him from clamping down, and then block Michael from taking his dick back as soon as he was free.

Jack made a humming noise at Michael and pulled out one of his chew toys and slipped it between Michael's teeth. Michael had developed a bit of a massive oral fixation and always seemed a little calmer when he had something to gnaw or suck on.

Jack took Michael by the shoulders and led him, stumbling, to the bathroom.

He got the sense from the nature of Michael's ragged breathing that he was fighting his way back to some semblance of coherence, but he was still far from being able to clean himself.

Jack stripped off his own clothes and nudged Michael under the shower head before turning on the warm water and grabbing a washcloth and soap so he could scrub the sweat and pheromones off of Michael while he was too out of it to take care of it himself.

Michael groaned and leaned in to Jack, almost losing his balance, and Jack wrapped his arm around him to keep him from falling.

Michael wrapped his arms around Jack and pressed himself close, working his legs between Jack's and starting to hump furiously.

Jack was well aware that the only thing Michael was getting out of the motion was aggravating his balls, but he let Michael continue with the instinctual motion.

It seemed Jack was right that Michael was coming back to himself as the thrusts were kept light and he could tell that Michael's desperate gasps were more an attempt to gain control than orgasm.

By the time Jack got him out of the shower Michael was coherent enough to take the towel from Jack.

Michael raised it and started jerkily trying to pat the water out of his hair, the world still shimmering and making all his actions uncoordinated.

Jack took another towel and helped him pat dry, and Michael was aware enough now to feel the old pang at needing help with such a simple task.

When he was  _ really  _ concentrating on something he could mostly handle things himself, it wasn't like there was anything  _ physically _ stopping impairing him, but the second his concentration wavered the need would wash over him and the world would become too hazy for him to manage.

Not that the haze was ever  _ really _ gone. No matter how distracted he was the gnawing and the ache was still there, but he had to use a different scale now.

“Do you want to put some clothes on?” Jack asked.

It took Michael a second to work out what Jack had said, but when he did Michael nodded jerkily, “Yeah.”

It would probably make more sense for Michael to never wear clothes, seeing as he would probably be out of them again soon, and it wasn't like he could wear any sorts of pants over his massively swollen balls, but Michael was unwilling to give up that illusion of normalcy.

Jack nodded and put his hand on Michael's shoulder to guide him to his room.

The others made sure to constantly touch Michael now. Their touches sent a burn out from the point of contact and made him painfully crave more, but they also helped ground him in a way so few things did anymore.

Michael reached down for his balls, now aware enough that he was feeling the constant, throbbing ache again. Michael reached his hands under them and hefted the weight to keep them from hitting his thighs and making it worse as he walked. When he was under pain had little meaning, but the second he emerged even a little it would flood back, too strong to be masked. Not that cradling his balls really helped ease the pain, seeing how it had long ago become such a deep, dark ache that it hardly seemed to resonate from anywhere anymore, instead just sitting like a cold lump in his abdomen.

Michael tried to get his swimming thoughts in order enough to talk to Jack, and by the time Jack was pulling a t-shirt over Michael's head he managed to ask, “Where's Geoff?” He wasn't sure, but it thought it might have been awhile since he'd seen the older man.

“He's at the office. It's Monday.”

“Oh.”

They had set up a room for recording Let's Plays at home, but they all, especially Geoff, had things that had to be taken care of from home. The other four had a rotating schedule that Michael couldn't keep track of for who went in to the office and who stayed home with him.

It made him feel unbelievably useless that he needed to have someone stay home with him, but Michael was well aware that he could barely feed himself most of the time, let alone handle it if there was some sort of emergency. He supposed he should just be grateful that their job meant that they could all keep working. Michael wasn't sure if he could stand it if one of them had had to quit their job because of him.

“Gavin's at the office, too,” Jack told him, “They left about three hours ago. They'll probably be home around six. Geoff said he had some meetings with sponsors and then a meeting about scheduling, and I think Gavin's filming a short.”

Jack did that a lot, give Michael information about what the others were doing. Michael assumed that it was to make Michael feel like he was still connected to the outside world, which was such a ridiculous and  _ Jack _ thing to do. Michael was incredibly grateful for it.

He hadn't left the house except for doctor's visits in six months, and even the doctor's visits were getting further apart, and sometimes those details about what was happening with the rest of the world were the only thing keeping Michael from feeling like his world had shrunk to the size of their house.

“Okay,” Michael agreed. There was something else he was supposed to remember. Michael thought hard, pushing past the gnawing hunger in his belly and the thrumming ache and the dancing sexual images to try and remember it.

“Geoff said,” Michael said slowly, “Geoff said Ryan and I should record a Play Pals if I felt up to it.”

“Do you feel up to it?”

“Yeah,” Michael answered. He didn't really know if he did, but he knew he could  _ try _ .

Recording was his favourite thing to do. When he was so focused on making good content and playing and what the others were doing he was able to forget for a few glorious moments about everything else and just be  _ Michael _ .

He was unbelievably grateful to Ray for forcing him to work in the beginning. Michael had been so convinced that he couldn't that he didn't want to try, fearing that he wouldn't be able to deal with the conformation that one more desperately important thing was taken from him. 

The first few times had gone horribly, and it had hurt so  _ bad _ , worse even than Michael had expected. He could remember lying in his room alone trying to choke back sobs, the pain of lose so intense it drowned out everything else, and he couldn't imagine how he could possibly go on living with this  _ feeling _ inside of him.

But Ray had kept forcing him to try, and eventually, just like Ray had promised, it had clicked and Michael had been able to find that zone where he could still  _ do things _ .

Ever since, finding that zone had been the only thing he really cared about when he was coherent to think about anything that wasn't his need. He couldn't always find that zone, and even after all these months the frustration of that failure could still reduce him to tears on occasion, and Michael was fairly certain that the content he was producing now wasn't as good as it had been, but it was something.

So he'd gotten in to the habit of working whenever he could, not sitting still for a moment because as soon as he stopped the wave of hunger would choke him and he'd be lost.

Most of his video games weren't engaging enough consistently enough, but he cleaved to the ones that were. There weren't many work things that would work, everything either too slow or too uninvolved to distract him. But, and weren't their some fucking jokes thrown around about this,  _ cleaning  _ worked wonders. The house had never been so spotless.

Michael took the offered kilt from Jack and pulled it on himself. There had also been a lot of jokes about both the alphas being 'kilt wearers' when Michael had first been unable to fit comfortably in pants. Ryan had fully embraced the jokes and gone and got himself some kilts as well, but at this point it was so routine it wasn't worth mentioning.

Jack reached to take Michael’s hand to lead him downstairs, but Michael swatted him off. “I'm good,” he assured.

Michael left Jack upstairs to continue the reading he'd doubtlessly been doing and went off to get Ryan.

Michael's skin was prickling and tight, and it felt like there was something stuck in his throat and his abdomen was aching almost as bad as his balls. A jolt of need spiked through him, and Michael had to catch himself on the wall, vision whiting out for a moment, but Michael pushed it down, concentrating on the task of finding Ryan and keeping his mind resolutely on the video they were about to record.

That's what Michael's life was now, an endless chain of concentrating between one task to the next, punctuated by his failure to hold on to that chain and being dragged back under into mindless need. Sometimes the fact that he could never take a moment to just sit and breath felt so suffocating that all Michael wanted to do was rip his skin off and run away from his body and just be  _ free _ .

But he couldn't do that, so he just kept dragging himself forward, cherishing those precious moments where things felt okay.

  



End file.
